


Half Three in the Morning

by stealthturtle



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, percy jackson - Fandom
Genre: Drama, First Kiss, M/M, Slow Build, teenage angst, time leaps per chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealthturtle/pseuds/stealthturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night was young; and their wounds were fresh. Leo finds himself having a rather pleasant conversation with the most unlikely person while the night rapidly takes an unexpected, if not interesting turn of events. Slash fic, angst included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Three in the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> So it's 2AM and my 2AM self thinks that posting this is a good idea, therefore, it /is/ a good idea. I do not know what I just wrote in the last few paragraphs. AO3's Word copy+paste feature made my story format loopy, damn it!
> 
> Lately I've acquired a horrible habit of bullshitting my way through life, so forgive me if you've noticed the tinge's of sloppiness in my works. I swear to Merlin I'll get rid of it one way or another.

Leo pushed a button on his LED watch (not only could it tell the time but it makes awesome milkshakes, too) and groaned as the numbers 3:39 blinked at him in angry red pixels. He’s been huddled in the engine room ruthlessly trying to find faults and fixing them since dinner time and could still see his uneaten ham sandwich that he left on top of Buford the table.

                Since their trip to Arachne’s lair, he hasn’t been getting any more sleep than he has the very day they set sail to Greece; which was to say – little to none. It also didn’t help that the fear and tension has been thicker than ever among the crew, what with the frustration the prophecy was causing and their loss of two of the greatest demigod they had on the ship – Percy and Annabeth. Leo felt so guilty it rang him to the bone. If he could have just acted faster, if he could have just dropped the stupid 40-foot Parthenon and saved them instead, they wouldn’t have had to go through hell – literally. So in a nutshell, Leo Valdez was not having a great week indeed. Or existence for that matter.

                Meanwhile, everyone had their own significant other to lean on and receive comfort from, but Leo had absolutely no one; zero; zilch; zip-o. It was the sad – but plain – truth. So quite obviously, this was the reason why he spent more time below decks than he should. Leo couldn’t help but feel lonely at times, if not a tad bitter. He just couldn’t shake the words of Nemesis, that darn goddess, and it reverberated in his head constantly. _You will always be the seventh wheel,_ she promised. But in Leo world, such promises can be snapped like a string if he could do anything about it. Theoretically.

                 Leo sighed and dropped his crowbar. Feeling sorry for himself wouldn’t do, they had a whole ocean to cross, monsters to slice n’ dice, a quest to accomplish, and the whole world plus two conflicting primordial sides to save and reconcile. Cake. He frowned. On second thought, something sweet would be awesome right now.

                He climbed up, emerged out of the engine room, and walked towards the mess hall. It was eerily quiet outside and no one was guarding the perimeters of the Argo II, which annoyed Leo. _There’s supposed to be an all-night guard!_ _Do they_ want _another Shrimpzilla attack?_ he thought, grumbling. Whatever. It wasn’t as if he could just wake someone up and force them to guard now, was it? Guess he had to do the honours all by his lonesome. But first, dessert was in order.

                He bounded over to their dinner/meeting table and took a seat. He pictured grahams, whipped cream, and mangoes. Immediately, the omnipresent plate was laden with the most sugary, mango float in the whole of Greece (and perhaps even Rome).  Leo grinned to himself and forked out a large piece of cake and munched contentedly. If this was how he was going to spend his shift as night guard, might as well make it worthwhile. _And delicious,_ he added as an afterthought.

                Halfway through his food, he heard footsteps. Loud, clunky ones. Leo dropped his fork and kept his panic down right with his digested dessert. As a demigod currently sailing in the middle of nowhere, one could never be too cautious.

 Standing up, he scanned the ship for any kind of movement and gasped inaudibly. There was a glimpse of white, like flesh, but was immediately engulfed in an inky black smoke that looked oddly a lot like shadows. As if it was taking refuge in this figure.  Immediately, Leo’s hands went to his tool belt. It shook so badly that when he pulled a round, ridge-y object out of it, he could barely hold up the metro. He looked at the item in bewilderment and was torn between screaming for help and measuring this thing to the death.

                But the good thing was the entity seemed to not have noticed him – yet. He still had time to slip out of the mess hall and run on tiptoe straight to the cabins; where the rest of the four lie asleep. Jason could do his lightning thing; Piper could charmspeak the creature into eating a poisonous enchilada that she could whip out using her cornucopia (could it be used for evil, though?); Hazel could trap this enigma with all the precious stones the sea could offer; and Frank could, you know, turn into a flesh-eating polar bear or something.

                With newfound hope, Leo slipped out of his seat and slinked away from the mess hall as stealthily as possible. He couldn’t believe he was actually getting away! Just a few more steps and he would be out of there. But he was Leo Valdez, and such things were cosmically proscriptive. So naturally, like the klutz-extraordinaire he was, he was about to turn the corner towards the bunks when out of _freaking_ nowhere, a plank from the floor jutted up and promptly face-planted him towards the ground. “Ow!” he yelped, but then instantly realized what he had just done.

                He shot up immediately, eyes wide in panic. The figure had its body turned to Leo; that much he could sense. But its face was still veiled by the thick cloud of blackness that mixed with the night’s sky, which didn’t help at all. Correct him if he was wrong, but it looked more human than any other monster Leo had ever seen. In fact, he was starting to wonder if it was actually a monster. His fear trickled away, but the dread was still there.

                It was a fight or flight situation, he knew that much. Obviously, flight was a much better option. He’d take it any day. But this was… different. Nowadays, everything just feels like a constant struggle to do right and only right. Leo felt like he had to prove something to everyone; that he wasn’t just a mechanic; that he wasn’t just “the funny guy”. He looked up with grim determination, metro in hand, ready to knock this person out with meters and centimeters.

He slowly stood up and cautiously walked over, trying to get a good look at the, er, person. They were as pale as a snowflake, and even with a good distance between them Leo could see the delicate blue veins running up their hands. They were clad in black, with a silver chain link making U pattern across a pair of jeans. When they turned, Leo saw a flash of… a black sword. And it looked a lot like it was made out of Stygian iron, and there was only one demigod in this ship who carried such a weapon. (Assuming ‘it’ _was_ one of them.)

                Leo visibly faltered and narrowed his eyes. “…di Angelo?” he breathed out, relief flooding him. Nico di Angelo stepped out of the gloom, leaving the shadows that seemed to bend to his will in his wake. He looked better, Leo observed. A little less malnourished, but ghostly still. (No pun intended.) But no one could blame the guy; try going through Tartarus and back and still manage to look just peachy. It’s only been a few days since they rescued him from the twins’ clutches, and Leo keeps forgetting they had a new demigod on board. He didn’t know the guy, but the kid sure gave him the creeps.

                Nico squinted at him and took a few steps forward, his boots making loud noises. _Oh, that explains the footsteps,_ Leo concluded. “What are you doing?” the Italian asked, looking at the metro in Leo’s hand, a bemused expression on his pale face. “Genius, Valdez,” he said. “Planning to usurp something just how exactly with that?” Leo flushed a lovely shade of a Valentine card, something his mother would always buy him on the 14 th of February, just to remind him that he was loved. He needed a lot of those. Reminders, that was.

                “For your information, I could have strangled a monster with this,” he said, raising his chin in defiance and started throwing it in the air and catching it again for added effect. “What monster, Leo? Even a telekhine would have just eaten that without a second thought; let alone a real threat,” Nico snorted. It was getting colder by the minute, or maybe it was just the presence of the alleged Ghost King. The thought of the ominous guy in front of him summoning spirits from the dead with the flick of his pinky sent shivers down Leo’s spine. And not the good kind.

                “I’ll show you what a real weapon is,” Nico drawled, and the next thing Leo knew his Stygian sword was 0.5 centimeters away from his neck, just where his pulse was, and even with a hair’s breath away he felt as if his whole neck was suddenly plunged into an ice bath, without the water part. He sucked in a breath and looked down at the sword, a bead of sweat forming on his left eyebrow. It was _so_ close! What was Nico even _thinking_?! A few days in a jar sure did screw with his mind, just what did he plan on doing next? But as quick as it came, Nico retracted the blade and sheathed it back into his belt loop. He wasn’t looking at Leo anymore, but instead, at the night’s sky. Stars peppered the inky black void and Leo swore he saw Orion, or was that Regulus? He masked his annoyance by trying to figure out which star was which and why he still hasn’t strangled the boy in front of him with his wonderful measuring tape.

                “That was one of the first things I ever heard down there.” A whisper came from the son of Hades. Leo looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. _What are you talking about?_ Nico stared right back at him and said “ ‘ I’ll show you what a real weapon is,’ the voice told me. I open my eyes and suddenly I couldn’t breathe; the air was like made of evaporated acid.” The strain in his throat told Leo that he was choking back any kind of emotion. “I saw things in there that were too horrible… too much for any mind to handle.” He closed his eyes, lost in reverie. “It almost shattered me, thinking back on it. I don’t know how I did it but I did; with a week bidding my time in a claustrophobic jar to boot,” he laughed without mirth. “All I thought about was that I _did_ have something to go back to, that no matter what happened when I somehow survived, there would be something waiting for me.” There was a pause. “And now everything I’ve left to live for fell down a hole,” he said bitterly.

                Leo was floored. Why the sudden spill of feelings? Why all the raw emotion leaking from his very pores? He hadn’t an inkling as to how to react. Should he crack a joke? That was what he does best, at least. But the poor guy looked just about to cry. Should he give him a hug or something? Or would that be pushing his luck? Nico would probably send a whole army of skeleton warriors after him for even just touchinga strand of his _hair_ , let alone bare flesh. But Leo felt squeamish, like all he wanted to do was dig up a hole, crawl into it, and let himself rot. This was why machines were better to handle; emotions are just too messy. But he couldn’t just stand here dumbfounded all night, could he?

                He took small, brave (very foolish, but brave) steps towards Nico and hesitantly reached out to him, but settled instead for clapping him on the back, grinning. “Hey, at least we gave tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber a show that would’ve run them out of business!” Nico squinted at him, not quite sure what to make of this statement. “I guess so,” said the Italian. “I mean, they just burst into a pile of gold, ain’t that one hell of a confetti shower, yech.” Leo tried again. He was rewarded with an off-hand snicker from the boy. “And what’s the deal with the whirlpool thing, aye? Just the image of that complete and utter bastard Ephialtes’ face churning in that eddy cracks me up!” He threw his head back and laughed, hoping Nico would follow. Alas, he was only granted a benign smile. _Better than nothing,_ Leo thought.

                “How do you even know what happened? You guys didn’t crash-land until _after_ Dionysus decided to grace our presence,” he snorted. “And even in a fuzzy state I could tell that much; ‘was captured and trapped in a bronze jar, remember?” Nico spoke his words with an air of indifference, but the slight wavering of his voice told Leo otherwise. “Yeah, well, Percy kind of filled me in on the whole skirmish,” he said with a faint hint of a smirk pulling on the corners of his lips. _Trapped in a bronze jar, remember?_ “And of course, how could I forget?” Suddenly, both boys burst out laughing good-naturedly and Leo couldn’t help but notice the fact that Nico wasn’t brooding about the Jar Thing. He felt relieved that his afterthought wasn’t too soon and fancied him as a person who could poke fun at himself. Leo liked those types of people. But then he also picked up on one thing: Nico noticeably winced when Leo said Percy’s name. He wondered what that was all about.

                Nico didn’t know why he found it so funny, because it honestly wasn’t even _that_ hilarious. But it just felt right; to laugh out loud than screaming obscenities in his head; clutching his stomach from too much chortling instead of putting his head between his hands, rocking back and forth. Insanity, you may just call it. But it was better than what was pulling him down.

                He couldn’t sleep a wink that night, his thoughts whizzing in his brain with a speed of two hundred miles per hour. It was always about him; the quest; the future of the whole world; him; everyone’s safety; _him._ Percy Jackson and his sea-green eyes you just can’t help but to stare into. That charming, boyish smile no one could get enough of. His loyalty, trust, bravery, kindness, determination that can drive just about anyone nuts. Of all the people in the world, Nico di Angelo just _had_ to fall for the most unattainable of all. The fact that his object of affection was already taken was the cherry on top.

                So why doesn’t he just get it out of the way, yeah? He was gay. As simple as that. Except it wasn’t simple; in fact it’s a whole plethora of complications and having to bullshit your way through everyday life living in _denial_ and bearing in mind that if he was unfortunate enough to have grown up in the 40’s and… _felt_ like this he would likely be burned at the stake for simply harboring feelings for another man. It pained him to know that other people who were like him were killed simply because they loved.

                While at it, why not throw in that rumor about him having a crush on Annabeth? Jokes on them, though. Ha. The irony of the situation just made it better. But then again what _if_ he really did have a thing for Annabeth instead of – _cringe –_ Percy? Would he have felt the same towards her? Would it have made everything easier? Of course it would. Because then, he wouldn’t be shunned by everyone around him. Although ‘everyone’ hasn’t actually done the act of shunning him, per se, but it was the best bet. He just didn’t belong anywhere. Not even where a demigod like him was supposed to be.

                A comfortable silence lapsed between them while the two demigods were left to their own, tangled thoughts. Somewhere in between, Leo looked down to see the son of Hades sitting cross-legged on the floor. He decided to join him. Nico looked up at him curiously, his fingers fidgeting amongst themselves. Leo took note of this and felt oddly pleased. _Guess I’m not the only one with that kind of nervous habit here_ , he thought. Neither said anything for a short while, until Leo decided to break the ice – “So, uh, what were you doing all alone in the deck?” He asked, and the son of Hades looked at him oddly. This flustered him. “I – I mean, most of the time you stay on the foremast but I guess the deck is better, but what I’m really wondering about is why you’re all alone in the middle of the night – where’re the guards?” He spluttered.

“I am the guard,” Nico deadpanned. Leo frowned but kept a steady gaze on a flaw in the floorboards. One was on a higher level than the other.

“So, Piper, Jason, and Frank, they just left you to stand guard all by your lonesome?”

“I’m not lonely,” Nico suddenly snapped. A scowl was set on his face but when he saw Leo’s taken aback expression, his features softened. He sighed, and said “And yes, they did. What – you think I’m not capable of watching over an already well-guarded ship? The jar may have snuffed out a little light in me but my swordsmanship and powers are eternal,” he cracked a grin. A fake one. In his strangled attempt of easing the tension (which was primarily caused by him), he hadn’t noticed his slip. _The jar may have snuffed a little light in me…_ He cursed under his breath and avoided looking at Leo, opting to rest his gaze as to where Leo’s already settled. What was so interesting about the floor?

“Nico,” The Latino rolled the name off his tongue, getting the feel for it. And might he say it felt just right. “What?” came the voice right beside him. “What are you really doing here?”

The simple question rendered the Ghost King at loss for words. What _was_ he doing here? It was about three o’ clock in the morning, the temperature was none-too-warm, he was awfully tired, yet he’s just _there_. After dinner (he had one pomegranate; the irony), when they were arranging the guard post schedules, Nico noticed how sluggish his companions moved; as if something was weighing them down. Their voices held little conviction and every so often, when they were nearing a touchy subject, it would break. Sometimes, he would catch a glimpse of a dying spark in their eyes; very miniscule and it only happens in a millisecond, but it was there. And suddenly Nico understood. So he told them to not bother getting worked up about tonight’s patrol duty. He told them that he had nothing better to do and besides, he wasn’t that tired anyway. Which was a flagrant lie, considering how exhausted he’s been feeling these past few days and how it shows in the bags under his eyes and the gauntness of his pale face. But they happily obliged and retreated back to their bunks. He saw a single tear slide down Hazel’s cheek which she almost immediately wiped away with her sleeves, but it was too late. Nico had already seen it.

Still, he knows that that wasn’t the answer exactly. He could easily just slack off and retire himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to sink into slumber. The voices kept Nico awake. They wouldn’t leave, always disrupting his steady stream of safe thoughts. Saying things like: _It’s all your fault, couldn’t you see Annabeth was entangled in a web?_ or _“You don’t deserve any of this, why not just give up?”_ and his personal favourite, “ _You don’t belong here.”_ All equally depressing; all equally true.

 It reminded him of the night terrors that usually attacked him at night and he would always, _always,_ wake up in cold sweat, calling for his sister. She would somehow hear him across the girls’ dorm in their old school and she would hold him until he fell asleep once more. And if she felt like it, she would sometimes even sing. But Bianca was no longer here, and Nico had no one left. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, sobs racking his body, there would be no warm body beside him murmuring words of comfort. No more Earl Grey tea’s before changing into his pajamas for a better sleep. No more silver linings in his nightmares. No more Bianca, no more Bianca. And it was then that Nico realized that he yearned for such things; he was, after all, left by his lonesome.

“M’lonely,” he admitted, contrary to his prior words. It was only a murmur, barely audible, but in the stillness of the night, he might as well have just spoken in normal pitch. He waited for a response from Leo, but he, too, had grown silent. He kept staring at the overlapping boards.

“I know how you feel,” Leo whispered. “It’s all just, I don’t know, empty. Everything’s just grief.” He laughed without mirth. “And in that empty void, all that’s left is you and your thoughts.” He leaned back from his position, his elbow supporting him. “And you want to fill that void with something else but there’s just… nothing. You can clamor and clamor all you want, but there is nothing there.”

It was Nico’s turn to gape at him. This was Leo Valdez, comedian extraordinaire, and he was actually _brooding_. Brooding! Could you imagine that? And they thought Nico was dark. But he felt kind of sorry for the guy. Here he was, spouting something that sounds a lot poetic and tragic and Nico was just staring. He thought, for appearance’s sake, of course, that he should contribute.

“My mother received the end of Zeus’s wrath when I was little and my dad peaced out on us before I could even crawl,” he started. “Plus, my only other family member is gone, too. These, uh, things… they keep me up at night.” And Nico said this in a hushed breath, without hesitation, because for some reason he _knew_ Leo would understand exactly just that. This kind of pain was something he and Leo shared.

“I see,” Leo mused. “My father… I’ve never met him, unless you count rare, occasional dreams. And my mom…” he trailed off. He refused to meet Nico’s eyes, or look at anything for that matter. He didn’t even fiddle with the hem of his cargo pants. He was simply in the state of _being._ So Nico decided to take the plunge, “Esperanza died in a fire, right?” Leo’s head whipped sideways to stare at him so fast, Nico was surprised it was still connected to his body. “What are you…” He breathed out. It was a harmless statement (if it could even count as one), but the Italian understood the underlying meaning to it – _How do you know her name? How do you know why she died?_ Why _do you know?_

“I don’t spend my time in the Underworld just for _fun_ , Valdez. In lieu of one of the juries in the court, I had to pass my judgment. And when her memories were reviewed, turns out Castela Rodriguez already had two chances at life. She once went by the name Esperanza Valdez. “

For a second, Leo looked at him funny. But then Nico’s words seemed to have registered in his brain, and his jaw dropped. “Oh. _Oh,”_ he sucked in a breath. “She chose rebirth… which meant she could have went to Elysium the first time. Except she didn’t,” he said slowly.

“Bingo.”

“Which also meant she died for a second time, in such short notice.” Nico realized that the guy didn’t know the first thing about how rebirth worked, and it could go in many ways. “No, she – uh, she passed away at the age of 58. Let’s just say two souls became one. Don’t worry your mind over the details, it’s even given _me_ a migraine one time.” Leo stayed silent. This made the younger boy panic. _Oh gods, was saying this a wrong move?_ He wondered. He felt stupid, why couldn’t he take other people’s feelings in account first before doing anything? Why was he constantly screwing up?

“Look, I – err, I’m sorry to have brought that up,” Nico started. “I just, I thought you should at least know about her… maybe that wasn’t such a good idea as much as it sounded in my head.” The son of Hephaestus smiled bitterly and said “Yeah, too soon, man.” Nico tried to return a more genuine smile of his own but found that he simply just could not make light of anything at the moment. It was always the cold, quiet, 3 AM’s that turned everything melancholy. Bianca once told him that it was at this time that people were deepest in their REM state, which was a fancy and more scientific way of saying that at this time people are in a light state of sleeping so you very well should shut up lest you’d want a shoe thrown at you.

But 3 AM’s were more than that. It’s not just the witching hour or the time the Christian’s believe that the veil between the mortal and spirit world was at its thinnest. It is at three o’ clock when you feel your emotions being magnified by a thousand; when bad decisions are mostly made; when you are sadder, happier, wearier. In other words, 3 AM’s are a huge pain in the _podex_. It just makes you feel like your sentiments are all over the place and it was just plain _unpleasant._ The Ghost King mulled over the word for a second, then decided it was the best word to define his very being. Unpleasant.

Suddenly Nico heard weird, fast, tapping sounds. He turned his head and saw that his companion was the source of the noise and frowned. “Something bothering you?” he asked. Leo raised his head to meet his eyes and smiled. “Nah, man. Just something I do out of habit,” he said. When it was obvious Nico expected an elaboration, he shifted his position to face his companion. “Morse code. It’s something me and my mom do all the time, it’s basically the language of computers.”

“Oh, yeah. My sister once told me that they were studying that back when we were still in Maine. I only know, like, two though.”

“Nice. Can you demonstrate them?” Leo asked, his interest completely piqued.

Nico hesitated, but lifted his hands nonetheless. With the nail of his index finger, he started tapping out the Morse code for the word H – E – L – P, and then after, S – A – F – E.

“Was your sister taking classes in tech rescue or something?” Leo joked. The younger boy rolled his eyes and said “No, but those are the basics, especially in emergencies. But she tried teaching me one more really irrelevant thing but I couldn’t remember how the letters go because they were too long.” Partial lie. He hadn’t really forgotten anything. It was irrelevant in a way that she taught him a sentence that he had only ever used a little over four years ago.

“What was it?” Leo prompted.

“Like I said, completely irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant is my middle name.”

“You don’t have one, dumbass.”

“How would you know?” Leo raised an eyebrow. The son of Hades scowled at him. “That’s beside the point.”

“Oh, yeah I was asking you to do a thing.”

“A what?”

Nico looked at Leo in mild incredulousness. It was common knowledge that Leo Valdez, Supreme Commander of the Argo II was odd. He talked weird, acted weird, and was just plain _weird_. But Nico found this quite amusing, you could say. It was a character he liked best in him and that says a lot since he didn’t like people that much in general.

Leo smirked at him, light dancing in his eyes like flickering flame. “Just do it, di Angelo.”

Nico abruptly sucked in a breath as the son of Hephaestus said these words in a low, gruff voice he didn’t know Valdez was capable of. He dug his nails into his palm. _Damn teenage hormones._ Despite himself, the Ghost King hesitantly tapped rhythmically in morse, wincing with every letter. When he finished, he looked up to see Leo just staring at his hand, mouth slightly agape.

 “Huh,” the Latino breathed out. “What?” Nico asked. The other demigod just grinned at him crookedly and snickered. “I’m flattered, man,” he said in between chuckles. “Didn’t know you felt that way about me, Angel.” A wink was precariously thrown. The son of Hades almost choked.

Leo erupted into fits of laughter until his stomach hurt and he had to clutch his middle, while Nico opted to glare daggers at him, face flushed red. “Fuck you, Valdez,” he remarked, ducking his head into his arms, which only made Leo laugh harder than he already had been.

Both had no idea how the night boiled down to this, but it was 3 fucking o’ clock in the morning, things certainly weren’t going their way, and there’s this whole REM business (where’s the catapult of shoes, damn it,  there are _five_ other teens!), and they’re both pretty scarred, and a little bit on the edge, and probably a lot drawn together by Hades knows what, and for the moment – even if they didn’t understand what was going to happen and how they’re supposed to deal with this whole Gaea thing – that was okay, and this – hanging out, acting like teenagers for once, was okay.

For a moment, they were led to believe that there was a bigger chance of things ending up better than expected.

That night, not once did either demigod dream about what haunted them the most

**Author's Note:**

> In all honesty, have any of you ever even /heard/ how morse code sounds like? It's friggin' terrifying, I tell you *shudders*.
> 
> Happy Chinese New Year everyone!


End file.
